The Fowl Effect
by Hail-The-Process
Summary: Set after The Last Guardian. Future mpreg. Slash. Implied intercourse. Artemis has been depressed since coming back to life, so Trouble agrees to keep an eye on him for Holly's sake. But certain events take place - certain events that must remain Artemis and Trouble's... 'little' secret.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl. I am naught but a lowly fan._

_A.N./ I know, I know. "Jesus, lady, stop starting new fanfictions and get the Hell on with the ones you already have!" Oh, what's that I hear? Writers block. Deal with it. I'm only writing this damn thing because of my oneshot, 'Hungover'. And that I'm now a Trouble/Artemis fangirl._

"Thanks, Trubs," smiled Holly as she finished up for the day.

Artemis had risen from the dead several months ago, but his depression was ridiculous. Holly was having problems being in the same room as poor Artemis Fowl. He scarcely spoke, and when he did, it was a daunting statement or something stupidly polite.

Butler was ill, Juliet was by his side, and the rest of the Fowls were on vacation. Holly was through with dealing with Artemis by herself, so she'd asked Commander Trouble Kelp to keep an eye on the ex-criminal genius.

Trouble shrugged. "I will only watch the filthy Mud Boy for a week. Don't get used to any freedom," he said.

Holly shrugged. "Whatever. Thanks again, Trubs." She quickly left for home, as Trouble would begin his week of Artemis that night. He sighed.

He had no desire to hang around with a brooding Mud Boy for an entire week, but what was he to do? Holly had done plenty of good for Haven city in the past, and honestly, he owed her for making sure Grub kept his ass in line.

He could survive a week of Artemis Fowl without incident, couldn't he?

* * *

Fowl Manor looked much the same as it had when the Mud Boy had abducted Holly.

Trouble steeled his nerves – or his patience – and knocked on the door. It took a while before Artemis finally opened it.

"Ah. You've arrived," said Artemis, sounding far less than pleased.

"Apologies, milord," said Trouble, tone dripping sarcasm. "I'm no happier about this than you are. I'm only here because I owe Captain Short a favor."

"I know." Artemis stood aside. "You may enter." Trouble did.

The rest of the night was more or less uneventful. Artemis sat and read, Trouble nearly dozed off on a number of occasions, and finally, bedtime came and Artemis showed him to his room.

Trouble would have flopped down on his given bed, but it was Mud Person sized and he had to climb on. _Being less than four feet tall,_ thought Trouble, _can be rather inconvenient._

Though he'd just about fallen asleep several times, now that Trouble lay in a nice bed, he was not tired at all. "Oh, d'arvit," he muttered, sitting up. What was the point of sleeping in his uniform anyway? He swung his feet over the side of the bed and hopped down. Might as well do something useful, like make sure Artemis didn't hang himself in the night.

As he stepped out into the hall, Trouble realized he had no idea where the Mud Boy slept. He rolled his eyes. He'd just poke around until something interesting caught his eye.

He didn't get far. There were at least a hundred portraits and photographs in the one hallway alone. Some were authentic, others were forgery – probably made by Fowls themselves. Some depicted bliss, others suffering, and a few just looked like finger-paint doodles made by a Mud Baby.

Trouble scowled as he trotted down the stairs and into the entryway, where the Fowl portraits hung. They had looked like displeased teachers in the daylight.

But at night they looked like what they had truly been. Thieves. Murderers. Greedy sociopaths. Manipulative con-men. Fowls.

Trouble shuddered as he inspected more and more. The Fowls, he realized, do have quite a history.

The portraits disturbed him greatly, and he decided it would be best to simply go back to his room and toss and turn all night, than walk around and have nightmares later about hundreds of Fowls crawling through his windows and robbing him blind.

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

_At least the d'arvitting Mud Boy is somewhat considerate,_ though Trouble as he picked at his meatless food. Across the table sat Artemis, reading another book and quietly sipping his d'arvitting tea.

Desperate for something to do, Trouble attempted conversation. "Dead, huh?" he said. "Must have been interesting."

Artemis cocked an eyebrow at him. "It was a unique experience."

"Not one you'd go for again, though?" said Trouble. He honestly didn't care much whether the Mud Boy wanted to die again or not, but Trouble had barely heard ten words come out of Artemis' mouth since he'd arrived.

"Maybe," said Artemis after a moment of quiet consideration. "I was preoccupied with other things last time, and was not quite able to make any sophisticated observations."

Trouble grunted in response, eyes flickering to his wristwatch. Still an hour before he had to go to work.

"I've gotta go, Mud Boy," said Trouble, hopping off his seat. "Work and all that. Don't kill yourself while I'm gone."

He hadn't taken four steps before Artemis spoke up. "Don't take me for a fool, Commander. I know you don't have to leave for another fifty-two minutes."

Trouble swore in his head, but outside he said, "I can go in early. Totally." He left swiftly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl. Because he is God._

_A.N./ I feel like I maybe made Artemis a little too gullible in this chapter, so... you've all been warned._

The next few days passed without much incident.

Luckily for Trouble, Artemis had decided to participate in conversation at last.

The Mud Boy didn't speak too much, but he did make plenty of snarky comments, informing Trouble that he was (hopefully) improving. Trouble did his best to dish out his fair share of wit in retaliation, but Artemis had a special gift for taking everything Trouble said and using it against him.

But then, something happened.

Not something that happened at Fowl Manor, not entirely – Trouble had an awful day.

It began when he dropped by he and Grub's house to check on his brother.

"Grub-?" Trouble began to call out when he entered the building, but he stubbed his toe on one of Grub's ridiculous action figures. These were no normal action figures – each one was made from real metal and weighed at least five pounds. Trouble bit his lip and cradled his poor foot.

"What?" said Grub, poking his head 'round the corner.

Trouble's face turned a shade of red that reminded Grub of Julius Root. "Get your stupid toys off the floor!" shrieked Trouble.

"But Mummy said that I didn't-" began Grub, but Trouble cut him off.

"I don't care what Mummy said – I care what I say, and you should too! Now get these toys off the floor and put them in your room. You're not a baby anymore," Trouble said, hobbling out of the house.

When he got to work, Trouble reclined at his desk and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down, as he was still fuming about stubbing his toe. There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Enter," said Trouble. Holly poked her head in.

"Hey, Trubs... Commander," Holly corrected herself when she saw how royally ticked Trouble was. "How is our wee Mud Boy doin'?"

"Fine," snapped Trouble. "Is that all you're here for?"

Holly shuffled uncomfortably. "Well... you know those demons who have yet to get over their hatred for Mud People?"

Trouble stared Holly in the eye for a long moment. "They're up to something, aren't they?" he demanded.

Holly shuffled again. "Well... actually, yeah. But, see, they sorta got away from your LEP officers and, well, _someone_ has to inform the higher-ups, and seeing as how they're _your_ officers..."

Trouble groaned and opened a drawer in his desk, moving several chunks of paperwork out of the way so he could retrieve a box of mushroom-cigars from the desk. They were the same kind Julius Root used to smoke, and Trouble found himself finding the idea of them more and more alluring.

He lit one and began smoking it. "So you want me to the bearer of bad news?" he asked.

Holly, thinking with horror that Trouble was becoming Root, said, "Actually, that's what the entire squad wants... Frond knows, I ain't telling anyone." Trouble sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Could the day become any worse?

As it turned out, yes. Yes it could.

Not an hour after Trouble had informed his superiors of the demons escape, the alarm sounded.

Three trolls had invaded Haven city.

Almost the entire LEP had to come down and deal with it. Grub had run away when Trouble demanded he go into the action with shrill cries of 'but Mummy said'.

With Holly's help, Trouble managed to immobilize one of them, and the rest of the LEP dealt with the other two.

Needless to say, by the time Trouble was packing up for the day, he was exhausted.

Standing outside of the building, Trouble subconsciously lit another mushroom-cigar. "You know," said Holly, coming to stand beside him, "Artemis made pretty cool, fairy-safe alcohol substitute."

Trouble shrugged. "I guess I could use a drink."

"And you could stop smoking those stinky things," said Holly, sounding just a bit too eager.

Trouble rolled his eyes. "Good night, Holly," he said.

Holly said goodbye and began making her way home. Trouble began making his way to Fowl Manor.

* * *

_Now if only I could make myself ask this of the Mud Baby,_ thought Trouble as he poked at his meatless supper.

How would one even go about asking Artemis _bleeping_ Fowl for alcohol – or at least the fairy-safe substitute. He cleared his throat, making Artemis look up from his book (how many d'arvitting books could that Mud Boy read in a day?) with an eyebrow cocked.

"Do you require anything, Commander Kelp?" inquired Artemis.

Trouble shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I had a downright awful day today," he said.

Artemis nodded. "I suppose you would have, considering the trolls and everything."

Trouble decided not to ask how he knew about the trolls. "Anyway, Captain Short mentioned you created a fairy-safe alcohol..." he trailed off.

Artemis stood. "I will be right back – but I warn you, I haven't tested it that much." The Mud Boy left and returned a moment later with a clear bottle of clear liquid.

He placed it on the table before Trouble. "The closest thing to this substance would be vodka," he said. "Enjoy."

Of course Trouble, who had never had alcohol before but had heard rumors of how it made one feel, didn't know how to go about this and cast a helpless – _Helpless!_ Trouble fumed – gaze towards Artemis. The Mud Boy sighed and left, returning swiftly with a shot glass.

Trouble, never having liked being waited on, poured the fairy-vodka (what would that be called? Fodka?) himself.

He downed the liquid and cringed, looking at the bottle like it had insulted his mother. "Is it supposed to... burn?" he asked.

Artemis smirked. "Yes."

Trouble grumbled and poured himself more.

He was about to drink the liquid when a thought occurred. He and Grub were going through a slight financial crisis, and Frond knew how much Argon would pay for information like how Artemis Fowl acted drunk.

Trouble's keen mind instantly began scheming – or as he called it, 'creating a strategy'.

Artemis was sipping his d'arvitting tea again. Could he trick the Mud Boy out of the room long enough to pour some of the fodka that hasn't been 'tested that much' into his tea?

"Mud Boy," began Trouble.

"What is it now, Commander?" inquired Artemis, looking up from his book.

"Do you know what a flerge is?" asked Trouble.

Artemis frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Trouble continued, "A flerge. New LEP technology. Foaly really outdid himself with them..."

"I have never heard of a... 'flerge'," said Artemis.

Trouble raised his eyebrows. "Never? Funny. Foaly was boasting about them today. Can't say I blame him. Amazing stuff, these flerges. Never saw a gadget so handy."

"Yes, but what _are_ they?" demanded Artemis.

Trouble chuckled. "Looks like Foaly finally made a firewall you can't break though. He said he's been working on 'em for months, storing all his information on his computer..."

Artemis stood. "That is preposterous. I read all of Foaly's files, on a daily basis. Even if I couldn't break through the firewall, surly I'd notice it!"

Trouble smirked. "Oh. Getting stupider, eh, Fowl?" That was the last straw for Artemis.

He stormed away from the dining room, no doubt to get on his computer and see what a flerge was (not that they existed), and as soon as he was out of earshot, Trouble jumped into action.

He drank a gulp of Artemis' tea and grimaced. The Mud Boy _drank_ this? Trouble quickly began pouring the fodka into Artemis' teacup, making sure there was as much liquid in the china cup as there had been before. The color was a little off, but not enough for anyone to notice. Trouble noticed only because he was the only one in on this scheme.

He returned to his seat with the fodka.

After a few moments, Artemis returned, fuming.

"Foaly played dumb," he muttered. "He said that flerges didn't exist, but I will get him... and these d'arvitting flerges."

Trouble smirked. "You really don't know a thing." Artemis sat moodily at his spot and drummed his fingers against the cover of his book.

Artemis didn't respond to him, instead deciding to drink his tea.

Trouble would have squirmed in anticipation, if he had not gone through intense LEP training and learned to expertly hide how he felt.

Artemis gulped his tea (he must have really been pissed at Foaly). He stared at the empty cup like it had told him that flerges didn't exist, and then turned his gaze to Trouble, who did a wonderful job of acting like he was completely ignorant.

"Something wrong, Fowl?" asked Trouble.

Artemis' eyes were glazed over. Apparently, the fodka had a much larger effect on humans than on fairies. "You put stuff in my tea," he slurred. Okay. It had a much, _much_ larger effect on humans than on fairies. Trouble had never heard Artemis use the word 'stuff', and probably never would again.

Artemis promptly fell out of his seat, and Trouble stifled a giggle. All was dandy in the world for Trouble as he made mental notes about this, until Artemis started singing.

Tentatively, Trouble walked 'round the table to see the Mud Boy sprawled out on the floor, dazed, as he – not sang, realized Trouble – recited the periodic table.

"Uh... you okay?" asked Trouble. Artemis paused and looked up at him.

"You have pretty eyes," stated Artemis, making Trouble feel exceedingly uncomfortable.

"... Thanks. Do you need any help?" Trouble said.

"I can't feel my legs."

"I'll take that as a yes." Trouble tried his best to help Artemis upwards, but again, being less than four feet tall was inconvenient. Artemis was nearly twice as tall as him.

"Come on, Mud Boy," grunted Trouble, trying to help Artemis along. _Argon had better pay me big bucks for this,_ thought Trouble glumly.

As Trouble tried to lead Artemis passed the table, the Mud Boy decided to take the fodka. "Hey," said Trouble, "that's the last thing you need right now."

Artemis did a very un-Artemis thing and took a swig straight from the bottle. "S'mine," he slurred. "I made it."

Trouble sighed. At last he managed to lug Artemis into the entryway, when he remembered that he hadn't a clue where Artemis slept.

"Where's your room, Mud Boy?" asked Trouble. Artemis pointed halfheartedly up the stairs.

Trouble stared at the staircase in silence, and then at Artemis, who was now thoroughly wasted. "You've got to be kidding," he said.

Artemis shrugged. "Nope." Trouble sighed exasperatedly and began the difficult journey up the steps.

_Ten years ago,_ thought Trouble, _I'd never had dreamed I'd be in this situation._ After several long minutes of Artemis' drunken physics lesson, and many, many stairs, Trouble and Artemis were at the top.

"Where now, Mud Boy?" demanded Trouble.

"Thailand," said Artemis in a superior tone.

"No, I mean, where is your room?"

Artemis blinked drunkenly at him. "Mmkay. Last door on the right," he slurred. Trouble gazed at the long, painting-filled hall and sighed.

Finally, Trouble was able to lug Artemis into his room. "There you go. Now you can go to sleep, and we can forget this... awkward chapter of our lives."

Artemis quit leaning on Trouble and managed to stand upright, and slowly he strode shakily to his bed.

And fell over. Judging by his look of bewilderment, he thought he was going to land on his bed – not the floor. The bottle of fodka flew from Artemis' hand, and thoroughly ruined the carpeted floor.

"Dumbass," snapped Trouble.

He began walking towards Artemis to help him up. "You are a complete moron drunk," sighed Trouble. _Then again,_ he thought, _I guess I did bring this upon myself._

Trouble began reaching down to grab Artemis by the front of his shirt, but at the same time, Artemis grabbed the front of Trouble's LEP uniform and dragged him down.

Before Trouble could object, he found Artemis pressing their lips together. _Kissing_ him.

The kiss was neither graceful nor terribly passionate, and was far too wet for Trouble's liking. It tasted heavily of the fodka.

Quickly, Trouble shoved away. Artemis could just sleep on the floor.

He left quickly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl._

_Sorry for the wait – WARNING. Backed-up sexual tension is sorta-released in this chapter. Not a lemon, if any of you readers were concerned. I feel like I'm pushing this forward too fast, but cut me some slack: I've never written romance before. Also, 'Help, I'm Alive' by Metric? Great song to write to at two thirty-three o'clock in the morning. Yeesh._

Trouble Kelp woke the next day with a headache.

He mumbled words that would make Butler cringe as he sat up and hopped off the bed.

Trouble hobbled over to the bathroom, intent on getting to work before Artemis woke up. When inside the bathroom, Trouble used the handy step-stool to get to the sink so he could splash cold water on his face.

He stared at his face in the mirror for a while. The previous night, Artemis had said Trouble had 'pretty' eyes. Gazing into his reflection, Trouble supposed his eyes could be described that way – though he never would outwardly admit such a thing.

He'd also been kissed. Trouble slapped himself in the face – mentally, of course – for remembering that. Could it be that Artemis was in love with-?

No, certainly not. It was the fodka, muddling the Mud Boy's judgment. With that, Trouble pushed all thoughts about the Mud Boy out of his head and began getting ready for what would undoubtedly be a terrible day at work.

Twenty minutes later, Trouble neared Artemis' room, to make sure the boy genius had not hung himself in the night.

He poked his head through the doorway, but there was no Mud Boy to be seen.

Trouble frowned, but Artemis' presence within the estate was confirmed when he heard the sound of the Mud Boy throwing up in his bathroom.

Curious, Trouble stepped in.

Artemis sat in front of the toilet, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trouble, elated, realized that Artemis had a hangover.

"Good morning," Trouble greeted Artemis cheerfully.

Artemis' eyes flickered to Trouble, but not for long, as he had to turn back to the toilet before he threw up once more.

"You know," continued Trouble, "I heard once that a great way to get rid of a hangover is to eat moldy tofu, chopped into little bits in a bowl of sour milk, like soup..." Trouble was cut off by Artemis hurling into the toilet.

"Well, I'm off to the LEP," he said cheerfully, leaving with a spring in his step.

* * *

Later, in Haven City, Trouble was cornered by Foaly.

"Okay, wise-guy," hissed Foaly, with enough fire to make a troll wet oneself, "you have a lot of explaining to do."

Trouble frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Flerges, _Commander Kelp._ Flerges. Do you know how late I was up, trying to convince our Mud Boy that I have _no. Bleeping. Idea. _What a flerge is?"

Trouble grinned. "Sometimes you gotta take one for the team, pony-boy," said Trouble. Foaly sputtered indignantly.

At that moment, Holly dropped by. "What are you two talking about?" asked Holly. If the smug look on Trouble's face was anything to go by, she was either going to hate what came next with a passion, or love it to death.

"Tell me, Captain, pony-boy," grinned Trouble, "have you ever seen Fowl have a hangover?"

They stared blankly at Trouble for a while, as the Commander sauntered off, cackling like a madman.

Which wasn't exactly something you saw every other day.

* * *

When Trouble returned to Fowl Manor, he found Artemis sitting – and surprise, _reading_ – in the sitting room.

"Evening, Mud Boy," said Trouble, clambering onto one of the armchairs. "How was your migraine?"

Artemis fixed Trouble with a piercing, icy-cold stare.

Trouble frowned. "Not that good, huh?"

"No thanks to you," replied Artemis curtly.

Trouble shrugged. "How was I supposed to resist?" asked Trouble. "When opportunity knocks, answer the bleeping door. Or something like that, right?" Artemis rolled his eyes. The two lapsed into silence, which Trouble considered a bad thing. Now that he was not giggling like an insane asylum escapee at blackmail-fodder, or barking orders at incompetent members of the LEP, his mind wandered where it pleased, which was where Trouble didn't want it to go. The remarkably unprofessional kiss.

His brain dared sicken him by toying with the idea of a relationship with Artemis – and he inwardly cringed. He supposed that the Mud Boy would be considered attractive, with alabaster complexion, silky hair, and high cheekbones- Trouble almost gagged at think such thoughts. What was wrong with him? Trouble liked girls – plain and simple. Then again, the only girl he'd ever really dated more than once was Holly, and all of their dates had ended in disaster.

_Oh Frond,_ thought Trouble miserably. _I'm thinking like a lovesick, prepubescent pixie girl. This is not good. Not good at all._

"Are you ill, Commander?" inquired Artemis, looking up from his book to see Trouble rocking back and forth in his chair with a mortified expression on his face. Artemis hoped he was the cause of whatever was troubling Trouble – he was still very, very mad at him for sneaking fodka into his tea.

"Why do you care?" blurted Trouble, fixing a fiery glare on Artemis.

Artemis cocked an eyebrow at Trouble. "Is it a crime for a host to be concerned for his house-guest's health?" he asked, and somehow Trouble didn't hear it as a question: He heard it as an insult.

"As if you care for anybodies health but your own," snapped Trouble, his words now tumbling out of his mouth without permission from his mind.

The Mud Boy glared. "I do care for others health, Commander Kelp. Just because I do not turn exotic plants into cigars, smoke them, and wear bell-bottom jeans does not mean I care only for myself." Trouble barked a loud, sarcastic laugh at that.

"Artemis d'arvitting Fowl – the kindest and most caring Mud Brat ever to live. Yeah right. You're selfish to the core," said Trouble. Artemis was now on his feet, but Trouble had no fear of the situation turning violent. Artemis could barely step onto an escalator without embarrassing himself. Confident in his physical capabilities, Trouble stood as well.

"I do not know what has put you in such a foul mood," hissed Artemis, "but it is _very_ unbecoming on you."

Trouble could practically feel his brain-to-mouth filter shatter. "Well, of course _you _don't know!" spat Trouble. "You were hammered at the time!"

"At the time of _what, _Trouble?" demanded Artemis, leaning forwards so that his face was level with the Commander's. The closeness brought a slight red tinge to Trouble's face, and though his mind was screaming to back off that very moment, his mouth played by its own rules.

Instead of complying to his mind, or even answering with words, Trouble's hands shot towards Artemis' head, grabbing him by his hair and pulling his face forward, pressing his mouth to Artemis'.

Artemis seemed surprised by the kiss, but was returning Trouble's greedy, angry kisses within a moment. Trouble felt himself being shoved into the chair he'd previously been sitting in, with no small amount of roughness. That did not bother him – if anything, he wanted roughness right now, for reasons he couldn't think of at the moment.

Trouble felt Artemis' hands on his hips and he unintentionally moaned into Artemis' mouth. Without realizing what he was doing, Trouble's own hands began going down on Artemis. His fingers gripped Artemis' rear and the Mud Boy growled.

It wasn't until Trouble noticed his own hardened cock that the situation sunk in. He, somewhat hastily, lifted his leg – which was a gesture Artemis seemed to misinterpret, judging by his low groan, but not for long. For Trouble proceeded to kick him square in the gut.

Now released from Artemis' clutches and kisses, Trouble a good as leaped off the chair. "I have to go," he said, a bit too loudly and hastily. As he half-ran, half-stomped away, Trouble heard Artemis make a quiet sound of objection, that was quickly silenced.

Trouble hoped no one would ever have to hear of this.

* * *

Unlike the day before, when 'Trubs' had come into work skipping and humming show tunes, 'Commander Kelp' stomped into work with a disapproving frown. Holly could almost see the little (or, judging by Trouble's face, considerably large) storm cloud over his head. He passed her on the way into the building, and Holly followed him.

"Trubbie, talk to me. Why the long face?" said Holly, hoping that Trouble would not go for his fungus cigars once he entered his office.

Troubled scowled even deeper at Holly's language. "Do _n__ot_ call me 'Trubbie'. Ever. Or I will rob you blind, sell your personal belongings at the black market, invest the sums in drug lords, use the remaining money to hire an assassin to kill you, master necromancy so I can resurrect you, if only to kill you myself. Why the long face? None of your business, Captain Short."

Holly continued walking beside him in silence for a while. "Did Mulch pass wind in your kitchen? He did it to me last week, too. I'm going broke because now I have to eat out every night. The stink is killing me," Holly said, more or less unfazed by Trouble's speech.

Knowing that Holly would not leave him be until he told her, and that she knew him well enough to spot a lie, Trouble sighed. "I had a little argument with the Mud Boy," he said. Partly true. Trouble could handle arguments – he was in them often enough. He had no idea how to handle kissing, let alone kissing not just another man, but a Mud Man, too. Oh no, definitely not his area of expertise.

"Ah." Trouble and Holly parted ways, but whereas Trouble went off to his office to indulge in his disgusting cigars, Holly decided to visit a certain ex-criminal mastermind. She, of course, knew that if it was an argument that made Trouble storm into work like that, it must have been something serious. If Trouble wouldn't tell, certainly Artemis would. Right?

* * *

Holly didn't even bother knocking on the grand double-doors of Fowl Manor. She'd visited Artemis' home enough that it felt like hers, and Artemis _had_ once said she was welcome at any time.

Holly expected to find Artemis in the main sitting room, where he had been spending most of his time since coming back from the dead. When he was not there, Holly checked the over-sized study. Oddly, this, too, was an Artemis-free zone. Concern bloomed in Holly's mind like a flower in the spring. She walked hurriedly towards Artemis' bedroom, giving up on feet half way and simply using her electronic wings to fly the rest of the way.

She found him lounging on his bed. Which was odd. Artemis simply did not _lounge._ He didn't even seem to be meditating. There was not a book anywhere near his hands. Nor his mobile phone, or even a measly diagram of some sort.

_Oh, Frond's knickers,_ thought Holly. _I've never seen him this depressed._ "Hey, Arty," she said softly, coming towards her friend, and sitting beside him on his bed.

His eyes flickered over to her. "Hello, Holly. What brings you here?" he inquired.

"Trubs came in with his pet storm cloud today," said Holly. "And has it ever gained weight. What happened? Trouble said you had some kind of argument..."

Artemis shrugged.

"Indeed."

"... Well, are you going to tell me what it was about?"

"No, I really do not think so."

Holly crossed her arms and pouted for a while, pointing her glare – which was effectively ruined by her overly-curious eyes – directly at Artemis. She expected him to tell her, but was disappointed. A switch in her mind seemed to flip.

"I've gotta go," she told Artemis. "Keep in touch, why don't you?" Artemis nodded, acknowledging her order. Holly hopped off the bed, and trotted away. She was halfway through the Fowls property, and safely out of earshot, when she contacted Trouble via helmet.

"_What do you want, Captain Shor-?"_ began Trouble, but he never finished.

"DON'T YOU 'CAPTAIN SHORT' ME!" she screeched into the microphone, which was extremely out of character for her. "I just visited our Mud Boy, and you know what? He was- was-" She hissed long, and loud, into the microphone. "He was _lounging, _Trouble Kelp. Artemis Fowl does not _lounge."_

There was a moment of silence, which Trouble used to make sure he had not lost his hearing.

"_There's a first time for everything,"_ the LEP Commander finally said.

Holly hissed terrible curses to Trouble, in a tone so cold that Artemis' 'vampire smile' brought to mind rainbows and bunnies. "I don't care what you and Artemis argued about anymore. I don't care what caused this. I care that it is your fault, and so help me, if you don't fix it as soon as possible, I will- will- I will tell your Mummy." With that, Holly disconnected.

Meanwhile, back in Haven, Trouble stared, partly disbelieving, partly terrified, at the receiver in his hand. Holly had made it quite clear what she wanted Trouble to do, but he honestly didn't think he could bare to be in Fowl Manor anymore. Not after what had happened.

He sighed, putting the receiver down. Trouble wanted – no, needed – to talk to someone about all this. But who could he trust? He knew of someone - someone who he used to share all his secrets with, and vice versa. He just hoped he wouldn't tattle to Mummy.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl is owned by Eoin Colfer. I am naught but a lowly perverted fangirl who cannot help but write down her perverted thoughts._

_Also, there's a poll on my profile that regards this story: What gender(s) Artemis and Trouble child(ren) should be. My brother also told me I shouldn't write slash._

…

_Silly boy. Also, warning! I write just about everything to do with this fanfiction at three A.M. - and crappiness is to be blamed on my lack of brain-to-keyboard barriers. Ta!  
_

* * *

Trouble was careful not to step on any of Grub's ten-pound action figures as he strode through the kitchen. "Grub?" called Trouble. The younger of the Kelp brothers poked his head into the kitchen.

"What do you want?" Grub asked, irritated. Judging by the comic book in his hand, Grub had been, in his own words, 'in The Zone'. Not that Trouble cared.

"Grub, do you remember Sharing Time?" asked Trouble, feeling just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. He and Grub used to share every little detail of their own personal lives – but they were kids then. They had not had the 'Sharing Time' ritual for a long, long time. Grub's face lit up.

"Sharing Time? Sharing Time! YES!" Grub was now bouncing up and down in excitement. He'd obviously missed the bond he and Trouble used to share. "Oh, this is a good day! We haven't had Sharing Time in too long! Let's go build a fort!" It was customary for Sharing Time to take place in a fort made out of sofa cushions, blankets, and armchairs.

Before Trouble could object, Grub had grabbed Trouble by the wrist and was dragging him into the 'family room'. The family room had been more of a 'just room' than a 'family room' for the longest time. Grub had obviously been upset about that for a while. Trouble felt the tiniest pang of guilt for letting himself and his brother drift away, but it wasn't enough for him to convince Grub not to make the fort.

Trouble did not, however, manage to persuade his brother that they should not sit on the sofa with a ten-year-old quilt over their heads.

Grub clicked on a flashlight under the quilt, still smiling ever so slightly. "We haven't had Sharing Time in a while, so you're probably out of it – like, a lot," rambled Grub, "so I'll start..." Trouble felt pure fear twist in his gut as his brother started yammering about just about every little detail of his life.

Trouble felt as if hours had passed by the time Grub finally stopped talking about the annoying blister on his heel, and how he was 'so totally completely over Holly, so you can totally go out with her or something'.

"So what was it that you wanted to share?" said Grub, grinning eagerly at Trouble. After a few moments of glaring at Grub while trying to ignore the prominent pounding in his skull, Trouble sighed.

"I feel very uncomfortable talking about this..." mumbled Trouble. This only made Grub's expression brighten further. Trouble resisted the urge to smack him. "Okay, scenario time: Let's say you wind up having... feelings for someone..."

"Ooh," smirked Grub, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Is Trubbie in love?" This time, Trouble did not resist the urge to smack his brother. After a quite mumble of, 'but Mummy said', Grub allowed Trouble to continue.

Trouble took a deep breath. "I'm just going to say this as it is, and if I ever find out you have breathed a word of what I'm about to tell you to anyone else, alive or dead, I. Will. Make. You. Weep. Understand?" Grub nodded vigorously. "Okay. I sorta-kinda-think-I've-developed-feelings-for-anot her-guy-but-I-don't-know-how-to-handle-it-please-h elp."

It took a while for Grub to understand what Trouble had said, and when he finally processed his brothers words, Grub burst out laughing. Trouble, face bright red, punched his brother in the arm.

"Dude... you swing _that_ way?" giggled Grub, after a long moment of hysterical laughter.

"Shut up."

"Well, if you _don't _want my unchallenged advice..."

"I meant, quite mocking me or I will kill you." Such a threat would be considered normal between two brothers, but there was something in Trouble's tone that almost made Grub believe him. Needless to say, Trouble's words caused little Grub to try and be more serious.

"Okay, okay. I'll need the gist of your situation to help," said Grub.

Trouble glowered in annoyance, regretting getting himself into this situation, and carefully explained the outline of his predicament, expertly managing to not tell Grub that he had 'feelings' for not just a Mud Man, but Artemis bloody Fowl.

Grub 'hmm'ed wisely when Trouble finished. "Well, I certainly am no expert in homosexu-" Grub snapped his mouth shut when he saw Trouble's eye twitch. "... I mean, I think I may have some useful advice."

Trouble stared at Grub expectantly before the younger of the two realized that Trouble actually wanted his advice. _This is, _thought Grub, _a historic moment indeed._ "Well, call me a hippie, but if you love this guy, than by all means – go for it. What's the point of simmering in self-pity and longing anyways?" said Grub. He then thought, _I wish I'd said that more 'mystical-old-man-esque'._

Nonetheless, Trouble seemed to consider Grub's advice. "Thanks, Grub," Trouble said, pulling the quilt off his head and standing up. Grub discarded the quilt and turned the flashlight off. It was only when Trouble left the estate when Grub realized something.

A loophole in Trouble's words. He'd said, "If I ever _find out_ you have breathed a word..."

_Trouble doesn't have to find out,_ thought Grub, while an evil grin settled onto his face.

* * *

Trouble welcomed himself into the manor. Artemis, as far as the Commander knew, had not told him he was forbidden to reenter Fowl Manor. Ah, how he loved loopholes (which seemed to be something he and Grub shared).

Trouble found himself half-hopping, half-walking up the steps on his way to Artemis' room. It was probably the best place to start looking for the Mud Boy, if he was truly as loungy as Holly claimed. Trouble paused, frowning. _Loungy? _Trouble thought. _Is that even a word?_ He shrugged off his confusion and continued on to Artemis' room.

The door was slightly ajar, so Trouble tapped his knuckles against the door frame. He could see Artemis lounging on his bed inside. It was creepy seeing the Mud Boy not doing anything. He didn't even seem to be thinking terribly hard. Artemis didn't respond to Trouble's knocking, so he welcomed himself in.

Artemis did not look at Trouble as the LEP Commander neared him. When he reached the bed, Trouble cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Mud Boy... Artemis," said Trouble.

"Yes, Commander?" replied Artemis quietly, not looking at him. Trouble took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Trouble resisted to urge to throttle Artemis. He was pretty bleeping sure Artemis knew very damn well what Trouble was sorry about, and just wanted to torment him. Nevertheless, Trouble's arms stayed firmly at his sides.

Instead of explaining what he was apologizing for, Trouble walked slowly to the other side of the bed so that he was closer to Artemis. He opened his mouth to speak – Frond knew what he planned to say – but Artemis cut him off.

"I do not mean to offend you, Commander, but I really do not wish to speak, or be spoken to," Artemis said, turning over. Trouble closed his mouth and stared at Artemis' back for a while.

Grub's word's seemed to float through his head. _If you love this guy, than by all means – go for it. What's the point of simmering in self-pity and longing anyways?_

Trouble took a step closer to Artemis, and reached out. His hand was now in Artemis' hair, and Trouble felt slightly ridiculous. "I'm sorry I left," muttered Trouble.

"Indeed," replied Artemis curtly.

"I won't ever again," stated Trouble, a little louder. "I mean, if you're okay with that..." Artemis turned so that he was looking Trouble in the eye.

"I am," said Artemis. Trouble smiled, and leaned down, kissing Artemis on the mouth. The kisses started gentle, but in moments they were much more forceful and hungry. Artemis' arm wrapped around Trouble's torso and he, being twice as big as Trouble, pulled him on top of him with ease...

* * *

Artemis awoke a few hours later, confused.

He didn't sit up, having noticed how peaceful Trouble looked – not a common sight at all – and dared not shift and wake him. Artemis wondered what it was that had woken him, when he finally noticed the tiny _buzz _of his mobile phone on the night desk. He reached out and answered it.

"Mother?" said Artemis.

Angeline Fowl's voice replied. "_Hey, Arty," _she said brightly. "_Fantastic news – Doctor Lee says that Butler should recover in a few weeks, as long as he takes his medicine and doesn't put much physical strain on his body."_

"That is good news, Mother," said Artemis. "When will you return with the others?"

"_We'll be heading back to the manor in about a week," _replied Angeline. "_How have you been feeling?"_

Artemis' eyes flickered over to Trouble, whose face was nuzzled in the crook of Artemis' neck. "I am feeling quite well," Artemis said.

Artemis could almost hear his mother smile on the other end. "_That's good. The twins are excited to see you again," _she said. She and Artemis' chit-chat continued for a while, before the conversation slowed to a halt and Artemis ended the call.

* * *

The next morning, Trouble was confronted in his office by Holly.

"You. Did you fix things?" demanded Holly, leaning close into Trouble's face. If she had not been as determined to tear an answer from Trouble as she was at that moment, she would have noticed the faintest smell of Artemis – tea, expensive soap, and books. However, she, luckily, did not.

In the back of Trouble's mind, he recalled he and Artemis' little tumble. Hot, shameless, yet loving at the same time. "I did," snapped Trouble. "Now would you _get out of my face?_ I thought you had a job, Captain Short."

Holly rolled her eyes as she left Trouble's office.

She made a mental note to check on the Mud Boy, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl belongs to Eoin Colfer. If I had written AF, it would not have been nearly as epic. Or completed. Or smart. I'm just not as good as Colfer, okay? /sobsobsob/ I also started school in the time I've been gone. Also, I put some sketched sneaky-peaks on my blog. hailtheprocess DOT blogspot DOT com_

_I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. It just feels like a filler - after two months, no less._

True to her mental narration, Holly used her super-duper, handy-dandy visa pass to go up top, as soon as she got off work. She was not entirely convinced by Trouble. He'd seemed as if he had been hiding something.

She knew Trouble well, but not enough to read his mind. Holly hoped that, if Trouble was keeping a secret, Artemis would know it – and feel like sharing.

Holly was zooming over Ireland when her helmet buzzed. Grub's voice filled her elvish head. "_Holly! Holly! Holly! Holly!"_ chanted Grub loudly. "_Oh, Hol-ly...?"_

"Oh, for Frond's sake, Grub, what is it?" snapped Holly, as she dialed down the volume on her helmet speakers.

"_You would not believe what I have to tell you,"_ said Grub in a sing-song tone. "_I swear, this is something so very wacky, eve-"_

Holly interrupted him. "Get to the point, Grub – _what the d'arvitting bleep are you bothering me for?"_

"_Hmph. Well, if that's the attitude you're going to use, I don't think I'm going to tell you,"_ huffed Grub after a moment of offended silence. Or just the moment wherein his puny brain processed Holly's words. Perhaps a mixture of the two?

Holly rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't have any interest anyway." Before Grub could voice an objection, Holly had disconnected and resumed her journey.

She reached Fowl Manor shortly afterwords. Holly let herself in and combed the estate for Artemis. She was pleased to find him in his natural habitat – AKA, his study.

"Holly," he greeted her, looking up from his laptop screen, which he had been glaring at as if it had offended him in some way. "What brings you here?"

Holly pranced towards his desk and climbed on top to sit on it. "Just dropping by to make sure you're not having suicidal thoughts or anything like that," said Holly mildly. She squinted at Artemis. "You're not having suicidal thoughts, are you?"

"Of course not," Artemis said smoothly.

Holly stared Artemis directly in the eyes while he said this. He didn't so much as bat a lash to suggest he meant anything other than what he said. Satisfied, Holly relaxed her posture, which she hadn't realized was tensed. "So what are you working on?" she asked, craning her neck to look at the screen on Artemis' laptop, but he slammed it shut before Holly could get a good look at it.

"Mister Secret-pants now, are we?" huffed Holly, making a face.

Artemis ignored her immature name-calling. "I don't have to share everything with you, you know," Artemis said, his tone even.

"But you can," said Holly. Artemis sighed.

"Some things are better left unknown, Holly." Holly frowned.

"You're not up to anything illegal, are you?" she asked suspiciously. Artemis gave a dry, humorless laugh.

"I can assure you, my friend, it is nothing illegal. Just research. _Privet_ research," said Artemis. Holly regarded him uncertainly, before shrugging.

"Whatever. I need to water my ferns. See you some other time," Holly said, hopping off Artemis' desk and trotting towards the window, which she opened and promptly jumped out of.

* * *

"You realize this is the last day I'm stuck babysitting you, right?" asked Trouble, after what felt like hours of staring intently at Artemis as he read, waiting for something to happen. Artemis looked up, and sighed.

"Really, Trouble? I have the highest IQ in the UK, possibly the world, and you think I'd have lost track of what day of the week it is?" asked Artemis.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yes." Artemis hung his head in mock-shame.

"Well? Has the almighty and powerful Artemis Fowl devised a plan to extend the time of which I'm expected to babysit you?" demanded Trouble.

"Stop using the word 'babysit'. It brings to mind fussy toddlers and irresponsible teenage girls," sighed Artemis.

Trouble squinted at Artemis. _I'm being squinted at a lot today,_ thought Artemis. _Perhaps there's something on my face...?_ "Don't dodge the question, Fowl – have you, or have you not devised a scheme?"

Artemis sighed. "Of course not. It's completely unnecessary. Besides, my family will be back soon enough that, even if I did come up with a plan, we wouldn't have any kind of privacy," Artemis said.

Trouble opened his mouth to tell Artemis how very humongous the manor was, when he remembered the twins. He'd only met Myles and Beckett once, but they made him love Grub. It was horrible.

"So what are we going to do?" demanded Trouble.

"I'm working on it," snapped Artemis, going back to reading his book – which Trouble noticed was mere fiction – and sipping his tea.

"And it shows," mumbled Trouble sarcastically.

Artemis' book snapped shut suddenly, making Trouble nearly jump out of his skin. "Very well. If it would appease your highness, I shall go to my study and think of a way to buy us more time," snapped Artemis. Trouble put on his best 'I'm sorry if I upset you' face, but inside he delighted in two things – one, he successful caused Artemis Fowl to lose his cool, and two, now Artemis Fowl was going to make a plan so that Trouble could cause him to lose his cool even more. It was a good day.

But mostly only because he didn't know what Grub was up to.

* * *

Holly was watering her ferns in her pajamas.

She was eager to finish her nightly chore, as a steaming cup of cocoa and her favorite TV drama dutifully awaited her when she was done. All this, coupled with Artemis not being borderline suicidal anymore, had her humming a bouncy show tune. All was right in the world.

Then, there was a knock at her door. Normally, she'd have hissed numerous bitter curses under her breath, but her mood was stellar. So Holly made her way to the front door and opened it, with her Neutrino 3000 readied just in case.

"Grub?" she said, eyebrows raised. Sure enough, Grub Kelp stood, panting, on her doorstep. "What the _hell_ do you want? Did you- did you _run_ here?"

"I couldn't get anyone to give me a lift," said Grub through heaves of breath. "I ran here as fast as I could as soon as I remembered where you lived."

"How did you even know where I live?" asked Holly incredulously. "We aren't exactly best buds."

"I know," panted Grub. "But Trouble keeps a list of all his coworkers addresses and phone numbers – stuff like that – and one time I, er, looked up your information..."

Holly decided not to point out how creepy that was. "What do you want?" she demanded a second time.

"To begin," said Grub, finally standing up straight, "I want you to stop pointing your gun at me. Then I need to come in. And then, I have something so beautifully _juicy_ that you absolutely _must _hear." Holly opened her mouth to object, but Grub pushed passed her.

"Hey! That's intrusion!" proclaimed Holly, scurrying after Grub, who made himself comfortable on her couch.

"Please, sit," said Grub, patting the spot beside him.

"If I sit, will you get out sooner?"

"Of course." Holly hurriedly sat down, but didn't put her Neutrino away.

Grub took a moment to dig his rear end as deeply into the cushions as he could. "Now then," he said, "call me a gossip, but I was told something wonderful and slightly disturbing about Trouble – by Trouble, no less."

"What? He missed his period?" asked Holly unenthusiastically.

Grub scoffed. "No. Here's the thing: Trouble told me he has a – prepare yourself – a _boyfriend,"_ Grub said, ending with a borderline-demented giggle.

Holly was unconvinced. "Oh yeah. Trouble is totally into that. I've been thinking it for years," she said sarcastically. Grub's eyes widened.

"Really? Am I just oblivious, or are you just really observant? Has everyone known but me this whole time?" He obviously hadn't detected Holly's sarcasm, judging by the way a tear of betrayal seemed to sting his eye.

"That was sarcasm. There is no way that Trubs-"

"He told me himself!" proclaimed Grub. "You could ask him, but than Trouble would know I told, and he'd... well, he'd make my soul weep."

"Okay, that sounds like Trouble," Holly stated. "But I don't buy the other... bit. Now get out of my house!" Holly chased Grub away with her Neutrino aimed.

When he was finally gone, Holly realized her cocoa must have gone cold, and she wouldn't be able to tell what was going on in her TV drama. "D'arvit."


End file.
